


The Donut Test

by nubianamy



Series: The Donutverse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Donuts, Donutverse, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, References to Abuse, Service Submission, Unintentional drug use, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn can't sleep. Puck feeds him and helps him relax. Kurt teaches him the secret of donuts. Takes place during episode 1.06 Vitamin D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [The Donut Test - FR](https://archiveofourown.org/works/916330) by [DonutDream (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DonutDream)



In the first dream, they were both naked. He'd seen Puck naked before, countless times, in the showers after football, but never where he could look and see him all at once, without fear of someone kicking his ass for looking. But in his dream, they were alone in the pool – he didn't know which one, probably some made-up pool he'd never been to – and he thought it was funny how his mind could make up things like that, just _invent_ a pool he'd never seen and that never would be real, but his brain sure thought it was. Real, that is.

When he was awake he never really thought about looking at Puck naked, but in this dream it was all he wanted to do. It was dark out, and there was a bright moon, and Puck walked out by the pool, naked, with the silver light shining on him, on the lines of his broad chest and abs and back, and his round ass. There was no sound. He stepped slowly into the water, his toes disappearing up to his ankles, then with each step the water lapping higher on his body, first his calves, then knees, then thighs, and finally wrapping itself around his –

And that's when Finn would wake up, jerking his head forward and blinking to reorient himself to wherever he was – the middle of Glee rehearsal, or football practice, or in class or at the dinner table or just about anyplace. With a raging hard-on, usually, and a foggy memory of the dream that had just left him.

The most difficult moments were those in which he had to immediately see Puck, the real-life Puck, right next to him. It was hard to reconcile his dream Puck with that Puck, the one that said, "I can't believe we have to sing this disco shit," or "Look at that chick's cankles – think she's got one in the oven?"

There were other moments, too, like the time he shook off the dream to find himself kissing Quinn, and he had to think of the mailman very, very emphatically. At least until she pushed him away to complain about his kissing technique, at which point he could fade back into the woodwork and not think for a few minutes. Minutes like those were just about the only sleep he got anymore.

Because at night, from the moment he flopped back onto his bed until the moment he hit the snooze alarm, the dream (and, later, others like it) consumed his consciousness. He woke several times a night, sometimes to wet sheets, sometimes to gasping hardness which he finished off himself, in minutes. And the subject, always the star of his sweating, panting fantasies was Puck – his very straight best friend.

This was not good.

* * *

"Have you noticed something's up with Finn?" was Puck's opening comment Monday morning as he slid into the seat behind Quinn in Glee.

She turned around and glared at him. "Only that he's more clueless and distracted than ever. Oh, and did I mention broke?"

Puck backed away from the fuming Quinn, holding up his hands. "Relax. At least wait until he's around to defend himself. And, clueless and distracted are pretty ordinary with Finn. I was thinking more that he's been taking a lot of naps during class."

"Maybe something's keeping him up at night." Santana leered over Quinn's shoulder at Puck. "Or some _one._ "

"Well, it's not me," Quinn grumbled. "I'm not sleeping well myself, and I have to get lots of rest for the parasite here."

"That's it!" said Brittany.

"What's it?" Puck said.

"Finn. Don't you see?" Her eyes were wide. "He's pregnant!"

"Don't even joke about that, Brit," Quinn rounded on her surprised friend angrily.

"I wasn't," Brittany began, but Santana cut her off.

"Don't get in her face, Q. Anyway, I saw a tv special about it once. It's possible."

"Finn is not pregnant!" Quinn yelled. The rest of Glee turned to stare at her, and she colored and rolled her eyes. "He's just tired," she continued at a more normal volume.

"Well, I'm going to figure out why," said Puck. "Because something is definitely keeping my boy up nights."

He positioned himself discreetly in the back of Glee rehearsal so he could get a good look at Finn's situation. Sure enough, Finn was barely paying attention to Mr. Schue's mashup idea. He had a vacant look on his face, and – _yes, he was definitely nodding off._

His first thought was that Finn was getting something on the side. God knows Quinn wasn't putting out for him. _Could it be Rachel?_ Puck scowled. You'd have thought Finn would have at least told him about it. Best friends get first rights to new gossip, he thought, even if they are rotten at keeping a secret.

After class, the boys stuck around the choir room to discuss and brainstorm mashup ideas, but Puck was too distracted watching Finn to really pay attention. Finally, rehearsal was over, but Finn didn't move. He was asleep.

Puck leaned over and stared into Finn's face. "Dude. Wake up." Finn's eyelids fluttered, but he still didn't move.

"He's drooling," said Kurt, leaning over next to Puck. They both turned perplexed gazes on Finn while Puck reached out with a finger and snapped his eyelid gently. That did it. He straightened up, blinking and wiping away the spit from his chin.

"Sure, yeah, that sounds good," he mumbled.

Puck wasn't buying it. "Dude, what's wrong with you? Go see the nurse."

Finn took a deep breath and refused to make eye contact with Puck as he struggled to his feet and trudged out the door. "Thanks, guys. Keep up the good work," he added, clapping Puck on the shoulder.

Puck looked after him in frustration. "I think he's seriously losing it," he said.

"What makes you say that?" Kurt asked.

 _Because he's hiding something from me, and he always tells me everything,_ he didn't say.

* * *

Finn paused outside the choir room and pressed himself against the wall, breathing erratically. His heart was beating funny. _That was almost too close,_ Finn thought, the dream still right on the surface of his memory. When he woke to find Puck's face just inches from his own, Finn's mouth had nearly taken over and planted a kiss on his smirking lips. He really didn't want to explain the drool. His fingers tingled where they'd touched Puck on the shoulder. _Rest. I just need some rest._

He stumbled down the hall and stuck his head into the nurse's office, and was startled to see Mrs. Schuester behind the desk. "Oh, hey, Mrs. Schuester – it's me, Finn. I sang with your husband in Acafellas."

"Finn," she said vaguely, then brightened. "Are you the one who's dating Quinn Fabray? What can I do to help you?"

He looked longingly at the cot in the back. "I've been really tired lately, and I was wondering if I could lie down in here for a while."

"Why don't you have a seat?" Finn settled heavily into the chair in front of her desk. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about your sleep habits?"

"I'm really tired, but I can't fall asleep. It's like my brain won't shut up."

"Well, what are you thinking about?"

Finn stared blankly at her. _My best friend, leaning over the pool table… yeah, that would go over well._

"Oh, you can be honest with me-there's a code of silence in my office."

 _How much can I say and not be telling a lie?_ "Football plays… girls... dance steps..." - _around certain football players -_ "... girls."

She went on to lecture him about keeping up with his homework, girlfriend and other responsibilities by taking… a vitamin?

He was just desperate enough to try it. _Anything to help me get through another day… preferably without dreams._


	2. Chapter 2

It was not Finn who came into rehearsal that afternoon, but an animatronic creation that looked superficially like Finn, but was clearly run by little toy mice. On speed. It was as though a cartoon of Finn had taken over his body – an animated body snatcher.

"I feel great!" he proclaimed, emitting more energy than a nuclear explosion. At least three exclamation points dribbled out of each sentence he spoke.

Puck stared at him, incredulous. Finn's eyes were wide and manic, his eyebrows permanently affixed to the very top of his forehead, the tendons in his neck stood out, and there was that smile, a rictus of desperate cheer and good will. That smile - it took up his whole fucking _face._

Finn drove into the choir room, knocking all the other boys down ahead of himself with the force of his energetic, absolutely _fantastic_ presence. "The nurse gave me some kind of vitamin!" he chirped.

Mike looked dumbfounded. Matt was shocked. Artie was appalled. Kurt seemed disgusted. Puck – well, Puck was just amused. He knew enough about taking drugs to recognize the effects."What kind of vitamin?" he drawled.

Finn's smile grew impossibly wider. "Vitamin D," he said, using every surface area on his disgustingly mobile lips. "And I brought you guys some!"

Puck was not going to turn down free drugs, and apparently neither were any of the other guys, although he did notice that Kurt looked closely at the box before popping two blue pills out of the blister pack and into his mouth.

"Great! I don't know about you guys, but I am absolutely _pumped_ for this performance! We are going to _rock!_ " Finn pulled up a chair and sat down on it for two seconds before popping up again, punching the air and woo-ing. Puck raised an eyebrow and grinned at Kurt, who was staring at the paper from the "vitamin D" box with a perplexed expression.

Finn started giving orders without pausing for breath. "Artie, let's try the mashup from the beginning. You be ready to switch from guitar to lyrics – just pass the axe to me and I'll get it out of the way until we switch back. Mike and Matt, you know when to come in front for your solo dance, right? Kurt, you got the high part, we really need those notes to ring out, got it? Puck -"

Finn grabbed a microphone from the table and threw it at Puck, planted both feet, and stared him down. "You and me," he breathed, panting a little. "We're going to work on some harmonies."

Then he nodded at Brad, always ready at the piano. "Okay, dude – from the top." He turned his gaze back to Puck, and the force of Finn's open, insane expression sent a thrill down Puck's spine. Or maybe it was the vitamin D. Either way, Puck's breath suddenly came a little shorter.

"You ready for this, Puckerman?" Finn hissed at him through lowered lids. He worked his hands over the microphone in a motion that was distinctly filthy.

Puck started, actually took a step back, then steadied himself and met Finn's stare. His jaw worked and he swallowed. "Bring it," he said evenly.

The eerie sound of the sample on Brad's synthesizer blended with the piano riff and Finn began, looking straight at Puck as they sang the close harmony, two mouths mirroring one another with ferocity.

_And I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd  
_ _You gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud_

Puck opened his mouth, letting the sound ring out, buzzing on Finn's stare and passion, feeling more alive than he had in a long time. And since when could Finn actually _dance?_ The rhythm had possessed him, and his legs and hips were moving in a way that he couldn't remember Finn being able to do, well, ever. He felt suddenly, feverishly hot and wiped a line of sweat off his forehead.

_It's my life  
_ _It's now or never  
_ _I don't want to live forever  
_ _I just want to live while I'm alive  
_ _It's my life_

As Artie took over the lead vocals, Finn and Puck moved out of the way, working through the backup choreography, but Puck could _feel_ him looking at him, sweeping his gaze down along his - _was Finn… checking out his ass?_ Puck stuttered, stumbled, but stopped short of actually turning to look. His face burned with unaccustomed embarrassment. _No. It was just – he was watching the dance, it was nothing –_

Anxiety crested into near panic as they broke it down into octaves, and Finn's intensity was turned on him again full force. The words _smoking hot_ slithered through Puck's mind and vanished.

_Better stand tall when they're calling you out  
_ _Don't bend, don't break, baby, don't back down_

Finn's leg was beating time with the crazy rushing of Puck's blood, with his heaving chest. They faced each other and sang in unison, in two octaves, and Puck found himself thinking crazily, _oh my God, I'm on top of Finn, he's underneath me – I'm – what the fuck -_

The drums beat a tattoo on his skin and he flinched away from the image that did such unexpected things to his anatomy. He finished the rest of the song mechanically, looking at the floor.

When they reached the final phrase, the guys were all leaping and high-fiving and he responded in kind, but when Finn reached for him he leaned back, avoiding contact.

Finn's eyes glittered and he smiled at Puck, dropping his hand naturally to his side. "Awesome, dude," he said.

"Yeah," Puck said, looking over Finn's shoulder. It was all he could manage through the flurry of self-recrimination and bewilderment and lust tangled in his brain.

Finn raised one eyebrow wickedly. "Wanna go again?" he said, dropping his voice down into a register that caused Puck's heart to skip once, twice –

"I – I'll be right back," Puck gasped, dropping the microphone and _running_ out the door of the choir room, heading for the restroom, slamming the door open and ducking his head, trying to catch his breath. It was coming too fast, he couldn't breathe. Too much.

He ran cold water in the sink and forced his neck and head under the freezing stream, shocking him back to a semblance of normality. "Fucking vitamin D," he groaned, and if there was a whimper in his voice, well, no one was there to hear it.

* * *

Finn left rehearsal later happy about a) not falling asleep during class, b) how they'd just rocked that song (dude!) and c) the hugest rush he'd gotten from singing with Puck. He wasn't sure where all that dominant crap had come from, but it had felt good, so he'd gone with it. His brain didn't seem to be in a state of mind to care about the ramifications of what he'd done, so he didn't.

The rest of the day went by in a tumbling daze. Finn was on top of his game. But the night after the mashup performance, not long after he'd collapsed from exhaustion, the second dream emerged. It featured scenes directly out of Puck and Finn's - _confrontation_ seemed appropriate – and replayed them on constant loop. The difference was, at the point where they were singing in unison, Puck reached up to close the gap between them and pulled him into a brutal, tongue-tangling, blistering kiss.

He woke from that dream feeling aroused, but also abashed that he'd pushed Puck as far as he had. _What had Puck done after he'd left the choir room?_ he wondered. _Had_ _he been disgusted? Or had… had he…?_

And then the third dream was hot on the heels of number two. Puck starred, fully clothed at the beginning, but ending with his hands on himself in the shower, soapy and shameless, moaning Finn's name. Finn still only watched Puck in this dream as he enacted a perfect strip tease for Finn – a strip tease which, to his amazement, addressed some kinks he didn't even know he had.

It occurred to him the next morning, as he was laundering his umpteenth set of sheets, that he should feel a little… _weird_ about suddenly having pornographic dreams about a friend that he'd known all his life. Particularly because this friend was of a gender he'd never considered to be eligible for sexy times – at least, not with _him_.

But for one thing, he _didn't_ feel weird (which might have been weird, too, you know? But it wasn't, so, cool). And for another thing, he had a crazy sense that this attraction had always been there, kind of under the surface, but he'd never been able to deal with it.  Until now. Now, apparently, his brain (not to mention other parts of him) thought he was ready. And he thought he knew, maybe, why that might be.

But what was most surprising was that he was starting to think maybe, just a little, that his super-straight friend wasn't so straight after all. If only there was a way he could find out for sure without risking their friendship. As he drifted back into the next round of half-sleep, he decided the next day he would ask the only expert on gay he knew.

* * *

"Kurt!" he called out, approaching him in line the next day in the cafeteria. Kurt turned, surprised.

"What is it?" He looked down, aghast. "Do I have something on my jacket? I thought I cleaned off all the mustard from yesterday's dumpster dive…"

Finn grinned weakly. "No, it's… I just, well… I need someone to talk to. Do you have a few minutes?

Kurt turned to Mercedes and whispered a few hurried exchanges while Finn tried hard not to fall asleep while holding his lunch tray. Finally he turned back to Finn with an excited smile. "I'm all yours! Where to?"

They went outside, into the semi-private courtyard where the stoners usually hid out to sneak a joint. No stoners were there at the moment, so Finn relaxed, set his tray on the stone bench and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"You were really… um, energetic yesterday during our mashup," said Kurt.

Finn blushed. "Yeah, it was pretty crazy, huh?"

"Those vitamin D tablets – I'm thinking they weren't vitamins."

"No," Finn agreed.

"Is everything okay?" Kurt asked softly, putting a hand on his arm.

"No. I mean… no." Finn sighed. "It's complicated, and… I don't think I can talk about all of it right now. But thanks for being nice and all. What I was wondering was… is there a way to find out if somebody is… gay?"

Kurt was caught off guard by that question. He recovered quickly, though, and eyebrows did a funny little dance. "Other than asking him, you mean," he drawled.

"Uh… yeah."

"Well…" He thought. "You can watch his behavior, see if he's paying attention to people of the same sex. That can be a clue. Or sometimes guys – he's a guy, right?" Finn nodded. "Sometimes guys are good at hiding their feelings, so it could seem like he's a homophobic jerk, but really inside he's just frustrated and scared."

 _Hmmmm._ "Does that really happen?" asked Finn, hopefully.

"Sometimes. Or sometimes, he's really just a homophobic jerk."

He took a breath. "Okay. Good to know. Anything else I could try?"

"Well… there's one thing." Kurt cocked a hip. "But it's just my personal observation, not scientific or anything. Although it's turned out to be remarkably accurate."

"What?" Finn asked, intrigued despite his exhaustion.

"It's the donut test," said Kurt.

"What's the… donut test?" Finn's newly awakened kinky brain was coming up with some creative interpretations of that phrase.

"You ask them if they like yeast donuts or cake donuts."

Finn looked confused. "What's the difference?"

"All the difference in the world, Finn," said Kurt condescendingly.

He sighed. "O-kay… so enlighten me."

"Yeast donuts are the Krispy Kreme kind – light, fluffy, with a spongy feel. Cake donuts are firm and heavy, like the ones you get at the cider mill." Kurt bent his head a little and lowered his voice. "What I've discovered is that people who prefer boys – that is, _men_ – say they like cake donuts. People who prefer girls say they like yeast donuts."

"That's it?" said Finn.

"Yep," said Kurt.

"Wow." Finn thought. "So, you're a – that is, you like –"

Kurt nodded. "Cake all the way, baby. Can't stand those soft, squishy yeasty-beasties." Kurt turned a keen eye on Finn, who was staring off into space. "And what about you, since we're sharing a moment here?"

"Um. Well, I've always eaten Krispy Kremes," he began, then stopped.

"So a better question is," prompted Kurt, "is that because you _really like_ Krispy Kremes, or because you've always been _expected_ to like them?"

"Doesn't everybody love Krispy Kremes?" Finn said in a small voice.

Kurt looked at him piercingly – _oh my God,_ thought Finn, _he's piercing me with his gays,_ and he choked back a laugh that he was sure would come out sounding hysterical – and said, clearly and definitively, "No, Finn. Not everybody."

"Oh. Well… " Finn swallowed and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. "In that case, I guess I've never really thought about… eating cake donuts… until recently, but I think I might be developing certain… tastes that are something I would like to… investigate further." He coughed. "With a particular person."

Kurt's "gays" became distinctly predatory. "Really," he purred.

Finn's eyes shot open. "Um, Kurt... I… "

Kurt started toward him, and Finn started walking backwards, matching him step for step. They held the look for another few terrifying seconds, and – was that a _snort?_ Then Kurt was laughing full out, doubling over and gasping for air.

"You… should see your face!" he sputtered.

"Well, jeez," Finn started. Then he grinned. He imagined he knew how Puck might have felt yesterday, now.

Kurt's laughter trickled away to a giggle. "Seriously, Finn, I think you're adorable – and yes, I may have had a schoolboy crush on you at one point – but I've moved on. And I don't think my flair for drama could withstand a… someone who's not even sure if he likes cake donuts."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'll like them," Finn said earnestly. "It's just, I'm not sure if I just like _one kind_ of cake donuts, or if I… might enjoy more than one kind. 'Cause right now there's only one person I can imagine… eating donuts with." He tried, unsuccessfully, not to entertain the idea of a chocolate frosted Puck.

"Ah, I see." Kurt put a hand on his shoulder and eased him back onto the stone bench. "Well, in that case, now all you have to do is give… this person… the donut test, and you'll have all the information you need to make a sound, rational decision about your next steps." He sounded so reasonable, Finn couldn't help but be reassured.

Finn turned to Kurt and quickly hugged him. Kurt looked startled, but pleased.

"Why, Mr. Hudson, are you changing your mind about those donuts?" he teased.

"Thanks," said Finn, "for listening, and not judging me. I mean, I kind of knew you wouldn't, but it's not easy… talking about this. I appreciate you being there. It's really nice to know someone else understands."

Kurt nodded. "I'll be honest: I have a feeling it's going to get a lot harder for you, Finn. I'm here, whatever you need."

Finn sighed. "Right now, what I really need is a good night's sleep."

* * *

Puck seriously could not believe what his eyes were seeing.

_Finn and… Kurt?_

They were sitting very close, lunches forgotten, talking, laughing, and – that was _definitely_ a hug. Initiated by Finn.

Puck gritted his teeth and his fists clenched reflexively. _This was not happening._ But it did explain the lack of sleep, the way Finn had been avoiding him, and even the freaky explosion of energy yesterday during their mashup. _But Finn wouldn't… no!_

He slammed his hand against the wall beside the window leading out to the courtyard. Quickly he glanced down the hallway; no one else had witnessed this exchange. He stepped over to the door to intercept Finn as he reentered the building.

"So you and Hummel are bumping uglies now?" he said caustically, catching Finn off guard as he let the door close behind him.

Finn looked uneasy, but he didn't try to run or avoid Puck this time, at least. "No!" he scoffed.

"Well, that wasn't how it looked from in here," Puck ground out, angrily indicating the window to the courtyard. "You guys were getting mighty cozy."

"I'm not interested in Kurt," Finn said patiently. "We weren't doing anything. I was thanking him for something he told me. He was helping me with a problem."

"Helping you with a problem," echoed Puck. He could tell Finn was telling the truth, if not the whole truth, and the tension drained out of him as quickly as it had gathered.

"Hey, man…"  He touched Puck's shoulder.  "I'm sorry I was so weird yesterday during our song.  Those Vitamin D pills strung me out. I really just needed a chance to relax and they didn't help."

Puck took a deep breath and let it out. "All right, man," he said, dismissing Finn's concern with a noncommittal shrug. _He wasn't going to revisit it now – he'd done a good job of blocking it out last night, right?_ He went on.

"What you need is a good party to take your mind off things. My mom and sister are out on Friday. Why don't we have the guys over, have a few beers, chill out in front of the Xbox? I can make dinner."

This would have sounded fruitier coming from anyone other than Puck, who'd been cooking meals for his family since he was eight. This was familiar territory. Finn brightened, and he smiled as he said, "Yeah, that sounds great, Puck. Thanks." His lips quirked, and he added, "I'll bring donuts."

* * *

The fourth dream appeared that night. He was stretched out on a blanket on the beach with a naked Puck, waves crashing and rolling before them as Puck descended upon him with a hungry expression. (It was clearly a dream because there was no uncomfortable sensation of sand up his butt, which inevitably follows actual beach makeout sessions.) In this dream he still wasn't touching Puck, but Puck was _noticing_ him; he paid _attention_ to him, was touching _him_ … specifically, one part of him. A lot. With his mouth, not to mention his hands and his – gahh! – tongue.

He tried not to think about this dream too much when he was awake because he was getting sore as it was from too much, um, friction, and he really didn't need any additional waking stimulation.

The next day, in history class, Kurt passed him a note, doing it so subtly that no one in the class would have noticed he was writing messages to Finn. Probably just as well.

_I Googled it last night. It's not a vitamin. The package insert said common side effects include elevated blood pressure, sweating, dizziness, anxiety and insomnia._

Finn was pretty sure he'd experienced most of those things. _Sounds about right,_ he wrote, passing it back. _What's insomnia?_

_Trouble sleeping._

He snorted. _Great._

Kurt passed the note back one more time. This time he was blushing furiously. _It also causes constriction of blood flow, drying of mucus membranes._ _Typically used for relief of priapism._

Finn underlined _priapism_ and put a bunch of question marks under it. Kurt's blush was seriously reaching epic proportions.

_It keeps you from getting an erection._

Finn stared at the note, only a little embarrassed to be talking about erections with Kurt, but mostly with the sinking feeling that the vitamin – er, the drug – wasn't going to help with the other problem.

Yeah, he got all his stuff done – several _weeks'_ worth, even - and he hardly _felt_ sleepy. But when he did sleep, the dreams were still there, and they were more intense than ever.

And, though he had tons of energy and was flying through his day, his body was too exhausted to really appreciate any of it. He enjoyed Glee and football and school and his beautiful, popular, snarky girlfriend; he really did. But at the end of every day he could barely muster enough energy to take off his shoes before drifting into a hazy half-slumber… beginning the next round of personalized gay porn in his head. And this drug, whatever it was, had definitely not kept him from getting an erection.

He decided what would help the most was to stop worrying and start relaxing. Hanging out with his friends - never mind one of them was the object of his fantasies - would take his mind off the more complicated aspects of his life. He just wanted to remember what it was like to be friends, just friends, with Noah Puckerman.

Then he looked at Kurt, and he wondered if maybe Kurt could use some relaxing, too. _Hey, what are you doing tonight?_ he wrote. _Some of the guys are getting together at Puck's for dinner and drinks. You should come._

Kurt's eyes flew open and he put a hand to his mouth. Then he looked at Finn like he'd grown a second head. _Are you crazy?_ he mouthed to Finn. He then did a very credible pantomime of someone throwing someone else into the dumpster.

Yeah, well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. He bet that Kurt's idea of a relaxing time probably didn't involve video games and beer. And, even though being in Glee had helped Finn see what a cool guy Kurt was, most of the rest of the school just saw him as _that gay kid._ (He felt a little uneasy at the thought that _he_ might be identified before long as _that other gay kid,_ and decided it was best to examine that thought only with the aid of sufficient beer.) He wanted Kurt to know he saw beyond the gay, that it didn't matter to him.

_Okay, so what about you and me get together on Sunday? No beer needed, and you can pick the movie. Bring Mercedes if you want._

This time Kurt's eyes stared at the note for a long time before he picked up the pencil to write a reply. _Save Mercedes for another day. I want this to be time we can talk about… your donuts._

Finn looked up at Kurt and grinned. "Deal," he mouthed, and nodded. He suspected there might be some talking he would need to do after this party.


	3. Chapter 3

Puck opened the door to find Mike and Matt waiting with a case of Rolling Rock, a bag of chips and Matt's Mass Effect 2 disk. "Hey," he said, high-fiving both boys as they barreled through to Puck's family room where the Xbox and dinner were waiting. Puck dragged a cooler of ice from the kitchen to the porch and started dropping beer bottles in.

He smacked Matt on the head as he caught him in the kitchen, trying to steal a morsel of mac & cheese from the oven. "Dude, it's not ready yet," he complained. Matt was unrepentant and cheerfully licked the hot cheese off his finger.

"Tastes good to me," he said. "Hey, where's your family?"

"My sister is sleeping over at her friend's house," Puck said. "Ma's working second shift at the hospital and won't be home until after midnight."

"Is Finn coming?" Mike said, just as the front door opened and Finn walked in with two pastry boxes. He smiled at Puck and dumped the boxes on the kitchen table. Puck gave him a salute with the serving spoon, then checked the crust on the mac & cheese and took the salad out of the fridge.

The group got rowdier and more relaxed as they drank their first few beers and assembled their team in ME2. Pretty soon Puck had dinner out on the table and they paused to wolf down the mac & cheese.

"This is even better than the beef stroganoff from last time, man," Matt said, taking his third helping.

"Where were you earlier, Finn?" Mike asked.

"Oh, I was getting some math tutoring from Charlotte," Finn said, swallowing a bite of salad.

"Charlotte – she's that hot brunette with the curly hair in your algebra class?" Puck asked.

"Yeah, that's her," Finn grinned. "She's nice. We talked about Glee and I think she might even consider joining."

Puck smirked. "Yeah, well, she and I did some _duets_ of our own last week… she's definitely got potential."

"Oh, um…" Finn said, nonplussed.

"What's in the boxes, Finn?" interrupted Mike, lifting the lid. "Mmm, donuts."

"Um, yeah," said Finn, "it's part of a… project I'm doing. I'm collecting data on what kind of donuts are the best. This box has cake donuts and this one has yeast donuts."

"Gimme the kind with the cream inside," said Matt, and Finn choked on his beer. Matt turned to him. "You OK, man?" 

"Fine," he gasped, wiping off his chin and the table and Puck's arm. "Sorry, no cream filled. There's some custard, though."

"I like jelly donuts," said Matt. "What kind are those?"

"Yeast," said Puck. He dug in and found a blueberry-filled soft donut and passed it to Matt, who stuck his tongue in the hole and grossed everyone out with his sticky blue tongue.

"There's nothing like a nice, sugary glazed donut, hot and fresh," Mike told Finn. "I like that kind first thing in the morning." He paused, then added thoughtfully, as Finn turned beet red, "But sour cream donuts are cake, right? Those are awesome, nice and thick and crusty."

Puck perused the contents of both boxes, and Finn watched him carefully.

"What do you want?" he asked softly.

Puck shrugged. "You pick first. I'm still eating my salad."

Finn selected a custard-filled yeast donut and a peanut cake donut and put them on his plate, then went to the porch to open a new bottle of beer. Matt cornered him with questions about the new play they were working on in football, so it was several minutes later that Finn came back - and noticed his plate was empty.

And Puck was unabashedly eating the last bite of the peanut cake donut. He caught Finn's eye and grinned. "Good choices, man," he said, giving Finn the thumbs up. There was a smear of custard on his chin.

"Dude!" Finn protested weakly. He sat down in his chair and stared at Puck, licking his fingers and picking at some chocolate frosting on the edge of the box.

"So which one was better?" he pressed.

Puck looked at him and shrugged. "Do I have to choose?" he said. "I just like donuts."

* * *

Six beers and four hours later, Puck waved out the door as Matt and Mike drove away. Finn and Puck played a little Halo: Combat Evolved, but they'd already beaten that game at least twice and it had lost its appeal. Finn yawned three times in five minutes before Puck turned off the TV and bullied him off the couch to get ready for bed.

Puck sat next to the bed and played his guitar as Finn unselfconsciously stretched out on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He could see a pattern of cracks just beginning in the middle of the ceiling. "Do you remember those Frances books?" he asked.

"What books?"

"We read them in second grade. They were about a girl named Frances - well, not a girl, but a raccoon or a badger or some kind of animal. You know. Anyway. One book had Frances not wanting to go to sleep. She kept coming up with excuses and going in to wake up her parents."

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, and there was this crack in the ceiling. She thought, what if something creepy comes out of the crack? Like, bugs or some nasty shit."

"Dude," Puck scoffed. "You can't remember anything about the French and Indian War for history class, but you can remember some kid books we read when we were like, what, seven?"

Finn drunkenly reached up to try to touch the cracks, but the ceiling was too far away. He laughed. "At the end she goes in to her dad and he says that the scary night things are just doing their job. Like, the branch tapping the window is doing its job, tapping, and that she has a job, too. And that she'd better do her job or else she'd get a spanking."

"Her job?"

"Yeah, you know, going to bed. Getting sleep."

Puck snickered. "They let us read a book with spankings in it in second grade?"

"Well, it was a pretty old-fashioned book. Things were different for kids back then."

"Huh." Puck set his guitar and stared at Finn's hairy knee next to him. "So - what's the crack's job?"

"Um... being a crack, I guess."

Puck snorted. "Y _ou're_ the one who's cracked." He poked Finn's knee with one finger, just to see what would happen. Finn giggled - he actually _giggled -_ and jerked his knee away.

"Dude!"

Puck's eyebrows crawled up his forehead, and a slow, thoughtful grin crept over his lips. "Are you _ticklish?"_

"No!" Finn scrambled up on all fours, guarding his knees and trying not to grin back. "Not at all. Fuck off."

So Puck had no choice but to go for his feet, his unguarded bare feet that stuck off the bed, and Finn let out a yip of fear but he was, even drunk, faster than Puck, and managed to roll off the bed and onto the floor before his toes could be assaulted. But Puck was sneakier than Finn; he feinted left, then right, then struck at Finn's abs, scoring a hit in that space between his Calvin Klein boxers and his Babylon 5 t-shirt (the shirt that Puck knew Finn loved, and would never admit to the football team nor to Glee that he'd watched all five seasons of the show on DVD). Finn crumpled around his hand and protested loudly, as Puck tried to make a dent in his stomach with his fingers, until finally they both collapsed back on the bed, wheezing with laughter.

Puck could feel the soft hairs on the back on Finn's arm brush against his. He wanted to pet Finn's arm to see if it was as soft as it looked, but even in his inebriated state, he somehow knew this was a bad idea. _Or, possibly, a good idea?_

They stared at the ceiling companionably. The crack was still there. Puck was surprised he'd never noticed it before.

"So what would come out of the crack for you?" Puck asked. "I mean… what would freak you out enough that you'd get out of bed and wake up your mom?"

Finn's breathing slowed as he thought. "Probably cockroaches. I hate them." He shuddered a little. "Did you ever see that movie _Creepshow -"_

Puck elbowed him in the ribs, hard. "Yes, and shut up! That movie seriously wigged me out."

"What about you?"

"The crack?"

"Yeah."

"Um." Puck rubbed the bridge of his nose and was silent for a few moments. "I guess my alcoholic sonofabitch dad can't come out of a crack, huh?"

"Not unless he suddenly got some mad ninja shrinking skills, no," said Finn, grinning softly.

Puck rolled his head over to Finn and watched the grin linger, watched his dimples deepen. He almost reached over to touch that patch of stubble on his cheek where Finn had missed with the razor, but he successfully redirected his hand to scratch his own neck instead. "Uh, well, then... thunderstorms, I guess."

"What? You're shitting me." Finn sat up and stared down at Puck, who glared a challenge back.

"Dude, so I don't like thunderstorms. So what? They, you know, bug my ears. It's the pressure or something. I don't know."

"No way, man. I can't believe I never knew that about you before." Finn shook his head incredulously. "I think thunderstorms are awesome."

"Whatever."

But Finn was on a roll. "They're so powerful, but in a hidden way, you know? Like they have this amazing secret, but it only comes out when it really matters. Boom!" His eyes shot to Puck's, which darted away. Puck felt breathless suddenly, and he struggled to maintain his equilibrium, swaying on the bed. Finn didn't seem to notice.

"But you know what's even better than thunderstorms?" Finn closed the distance between them and sat right beside Puck on the bed, eyes bright and hands alive with the expressivity of six beers. There was a little bubble of spit on his bottom lip. Puck stared at the spit, transfixed.

"What?" he whispered.

"When it's raining just a little bit, you know, not much but enough so you can smell the rain, not enough to actually need an umbrella, but it feels so good on your skin. What's that called, when it's like that?"

"Um… drizzle," breathed Puck.

"Drizzle," repeated Finn in the same tone. Then he smiled, looking satisfied. "Yeah. I love that."

Puck sat one more moment, basking in Finn's pleasure, until it became unbearable. He shifted, then lurched up and staggered to his feet. "C'mon, dude. I'm starving. Let's see if any of those donuts are left."

* * *

The donuts were nowhere to be found, and there were no leftovers from dinner. Finn wasn't surprised. He couldn't remember the last time there had been _any_ leftovers from a dinner cooked by Noah Puckerman.

Together, they demolished a bag of kettle corn without any effort, but that was the last of the snack food, so Puck started pulling ingredients out of the cupboard and throwing them into a bowl. Flour, salt, oatmeal. Into another bowl went butter, sugar, vanilla. "What are you making?" Finn said, dragging a stool over to the island where Puck stood.

"Cookie dough." Puck cracked an egg into a smaller bowl, then another one, and tossed the eggshells over his head at the sink. They missed, making a wet crunching sound on the linoleum.

"Dude, we are way too drunk to be baking cookies," Finn said, but he eyed the sugar-egg-butter mixture with interest.

"Who said anything about baking them?" Puck grinned. The tendons in his forearm flexed as he beat the dough into submission. "This was one of my favorite snacks after soccer practice in middle school. I totally could mix it in my sleep."

"You make the best macaroni and cheese," Finn said wistfully. "Better than my mom's."

"It's the white truffle oil." Puck reached into the cupboard above the stove and rummaged around until he found a half-used bag of chocolate chips. He emptied the bag into the bowl, gave it one last stir and handed the bowl to Finn. "Brings out the flavor of the cheese."

Puck watched Finn as he took a gigantic fingerful of dough and lifted it into his mouth. He stared at the digit as it disappeared between Finn's lips twice, three, four times. He felt a twinge with each lick, a little more acutely each time, in his gut.

"I don't think I can even boil an egg without a recipe," Finn said through a mouthful of cookie dough. "You've always known how to cook, right?"

Puck blinked, focusing. It took him a moment to respond. "Yeah, well, with my mom working second shift, nobody else was going to cook for us. My brother was willing to eat ramen every day, but not me. I learned to read _and_ do math by figuring out recipes. After a while, it just got to be, like, a challenge. What could I make for dinner tonight that I'd never made before?" He shrugged. "Lucky my mom and sister are pretty adventurous eaters."

"Hmmmmm…" Finn put his chin on top of his hands on the counter and smiled stupidly at Puck. "Lucky I got to sleep over at your house every week and get free samples."

"Yeah…" Puck smiled back wryly. "Lucky."

They managed to get the bowl of cookie dough back to Puck's room without dropping it, but both agreed more video games were beyond their skill at this point in the evening. Puck settled on the chair with his guitar, playing sloppy chord progressions and humming to himself. Finn dropped onto the bed, groaning.

"You okay, man?"

"Oh, yeah." Finn's eyes didn't open. "I've just been so worked up, you know? All that stuff with Glee and football and Quinn and that Vitamin D crap… well, I haven't really been sleeping, you know…"

"I know," Puck said softly, still playing.

"And it feels… good, to just... relax. Be myself. This was the best buddy night ever. Thanks."

"No problem."

Finn groaned. "Ugh… my feet are killing me."

Puck's mind went blank. "Um."

There was a pause, during which Puck did not think about anything. Then he gently set down his guitar.

"Dude, if you _ever_ tell anyone about this, you are _toast,"_ he said, and he took one of Finn's feet in his hands and began to rub in a circular pattern with his thumbs.

Finn didn't move, but he made a sound, deep in his throat, that Puck could swear was an octave and a half lower than any sound he'd ever heard Finn make. The sound resonated in Puck's gut and made his organs shiver.

Finn had long feet with wide, flat toes. There were calluses on the balls and heels of both feet, and some rough spots on his ankles. His toenails could use a trim. Puck worked his fingers down the bones on the front of his feet and dug his thumbs into the pad, the arch, and along the heel.

Noises continued to emanate from Finn's mouth that would have been at home in a porn movie. Puck tried his best to ignore them and kept methodically working along the heel, into those spots he knew their football cleats left the most sore, and back up the other side to the toes. He gently pulled on and wiggled each toe and noticed that Finn had a little tuft of hair growing out of each one.

When the first foot was done, according to Puck's own estimation, he carefully put it down and picked up the other one. He had to move to the other side of Finn in order to do this, but he tried to do it in such a way that Finn wouldn't notice. But Finn's eyes blinked open as Puck moved, and he looked up at Puck with such an expression of awe and appreciation that Puck couldn't help laughing.

"My mom's feet always gets really sore from walking around at the hospital all day," Puck said, by way of explanation. "I get a lot of practice at this." He could feel Finn's muscles releasing as he rubbed, and all the while his own shoulders and back and neck and - other things were getting more and more tense. Puck just kept working, keeping it clinical, repeating to himself _this is for Finn, it's not about me, I don't love this, it's for Finn._ It became a mantra, an atonement for past and future sins, as his strong hands kneaded and pulled and squeezed.

After that, Puck only heard occasional sounds of contentment from Finn. After a while these stopped, too, and there was silence. Finally, Puck lay Finn's other foot down and carefully sat on the floor next to the bed, taking one long, silent, shuddering breath. He was sweating like he'd just run a 5k, and he pulled off his shirt to mop his wet forehead and neck. He didn't look at the prone form on the bed, didn't notice Finn sitting up until Finn swung his legs around him and he felt Finn's hands resting on his bare back. Puck froze.

"Awesome, dude," Finn said softly.  They were the same words he'd used after the mashup rehearsal, from which Puck had fled. Puck considered doing that now, imagining that he could jump up and give Finn one disgusted look and head out the door, and it would be normal, so normal. But he didn't.

And when Finn's own hands began to firmly, confidently rub his neck and shoulders, he felt himself resisting, getting more tense instead of less, but he didn't move away and he didn't say a word. He closed his eyes.

"My mom comes home from work tense all the time, but I never thought to offer to rub her feet," said Finn, thumbs and fingers working around the tendons and bones in Puck's neck. "Now that I know how good it feels, I bet she would really – dude, will you just _relax_ and enjoy this? Seriously."

And just like that, all the tension went out of Puck, and with a shudder of surrender, he gave himself up to Finn's hands.

"Is that too hard? Am I hurting you?"

" _No."_ The reply was a groan forced out of him, like a bellows. _You're killing me,_ he thought. _Fuck. I am going to die, right here, on my own bedroom floor, a great big puddle of goo. Puck goo will never come out of the rug._

"Did you go out with Charlotte, then?" Finn asked, rubbing his shoulders.

It took Puck a few moments to realize who Finn was talking about. "Oh, um… yeah, we uhhhhh." The last sound came out as a moan, and Puck would have been embarrassed if he had had any volition left whatsoever.

"You know, it's OK with me if you want to date her," Finn said, starting under Puck's right shoulder blade. Puck's breath was coming in slow, measured gasps, and he was trying not to make those same noises that Finn had made. "She's a really sweet girl. I was thinking of asking her out, but if you like her, I want you to – I mean, if it would make you happy."

Puck half laughed, half panted, leaning into the hand that was touching muscles he didn't even know he'd had. "Thanks… but Charlotte… and me… it didn't work out."

"Oh." Finn was silent, considering this. He found a sweet spot with his thumbs and Puck quivered, leaning in harder. Puck could feel Finn's bare thighs against his shoulders. "Um, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Puck said. "Really." He was surprised he was able to say words at all at this point. There was a whole conversation happening inside him. His body had lost all its vowels, saying _Mmmm nnngh rrrrrr_ while his brain went _Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck._

"I don't like it when girls get between our friendship," Finn said. "You're more important to me. We've been friends for too long."

"Yeah…" Puck sighed, letting the usual guilt and frustration about that subject be obliterated by the incredible feelings Finn was inspiring in his lower back. "Me, too."

"I can't believe how tense this week has been." Finn's fingers gave Puck's neck one last squeeze, and he let his forehead drop onto Puck's head, which was lying boneless against the edge of the bed. "I really needed a friend tonight. You took good care of me. Thanks a lot, man."

They lay there, drunk and sweaty and thinking their own thoughts, which Puck would have never shared even at knifepoint, and Finn was not disclosing. Puck finally stirred and slowly pulled himself to a sitting position, but Finn wasn't quite done with him. He put a hand on Puck's shoulder.

"Was that… are we okay?" Finn asked. He sounded uncertain. "Was that okay?"

Puck looked carefully at the question inside his head. He looked from the perspective of his head, which was reeling; from his back, which was humming Finn's praise; from his dick, which was awake and ready to go. He did not look from his heart, which seemed too painful and complicated to even consider. He made a decision.

"Yeah," he said, and he looked at Finn full in the face. He smiled a little. "We're cool."

Then he got up and walked out of the room. He did not return until his head had quieted, his back had calmed and his dick was sleeping once more.

Finn was sprawled on the bed, his long limbs hanging off three sides, head pillowed on his forearm, a little puddle of drool collecting from his open mouth. Puck pulled the blanket up off the foot of the bed and draped it over Finn's still form, then unrolled his sleeping bag and curled up on the floor.

Puck's own sleep was slow in coming, but he didn't let that bother him. _They were cool._ He smiled again, a secret smile, a happy smile he didn't let people see. _They were cool._


	4. Chapter 4

It was nearly dawn when the sound of crashing thunder woke Finn. His body felt loose, relaxed. He looked out the window at the gray light of morning filtering through the heavy clouds outside, and smiled. There had been no dreams. _No dreams._ He'd slept comfortably in Puck's bed, uninterrupted. Light hangover notwithstanding, it felt amazing to be rested.

The events of last night drifted into his memory, and a smile came unbidden to his lips as he remembered Puck's words. _Yeah, we're cool._

Then he heard a gasp, and he rolled over to see Puck on the floor, huddled in his sleeping bag, curled into a ball. Puck's eyes were squeezed tightly closed, and there was a line of tension, almost pain, in the middle of his forehead.

"Puck?"

He didn't respond, but as lightning and thunder came again, almost on top of one another, Finn watched Puck shrink into himself, and a cry of wordless terror escaped him. _He's still asleep,_ Finn thought, _and he's scared out of his mind._

Finn scrambled out of bed and reached for Puck's shoulder, then hesitated. He'd heard once it was a bad idea to wake a sleepwalker. Was this kind of dream state equally dangerous to wake from? Finn didn't know, but he thought it would be better not to risk it.

"C'mon, man," he muttered, wrestling Puck's sleeping form onto the bed, cradling him in his sleeping bag like a cocoon between his legs and on his chest. The lightning struck again, and the thunder tore another cry from Puck, then a shuddering breath. Finn whispered inanities and rocked his friend in a mindless rhythm: _It's okay, you're all right, nothing's going to hurt you, you're okay._

He wondered why Puck was so scared of the noise and lights of the storm. He wondered how he could have known this boy so well, for so much of his life, and still not know this thing about him.  It worried him. He wondered what other things about Puck might still be hidden to him, and this worried him most of all. He held Puck tighter in the dim light of the stormy dawn, watching the tears leaking from between his closed eyes, feeling his breath slowing, the pace of his heart calming.

Finn wiped Puck's snotty, tear-streaked face with the side of his hand, and then touched the shaved part of his head with one finger because he'd always wanted to know how it felt. It was rough, like sandpaper, but the skin was softer than he'd expected. He thought suddenly, _I want to know everything about him. All the secrets, all the messy stuff. All of it._

Even as Puck's body relaxed, Finn could feel his own body waking up. The slippery casing of the sleeping bag brushed against his thighs and stomach, with predictable results. Through the bag he could feel Puck's firm muscles and compact form, so different from the bodies he'd held before. Puck smelled like sweat and musk, and he didn't think he'd ever expected that combination of smells to be so fascinating to his nose.

Puck's face turned in sleep toward Finn's, just inches away, close enough for Finn to feel the faint breath of his exhalation. Though his forehead still bore lines of worry, the fear was gone. Finn felt a loosening in his chest, as though something might be breaking out, something long held and protected now set free. He pressed dry lips to Puck's forehead, and when he pulled away, Puck's hazel eyes were looking up at him.

"Hey," said Puck softly.

"Hey," said Finn. "You were… I think you were having a bad dream."

"Mmmm." Puck's lips twisted. "Yeah. I remember."

"Your dad?" he guessed.

He dropped his gaze. "Yeah," he repeated.

It occurred to Finn that Puck was essentially sitting in his lap, and neither of them had done anything to change this situation. He wondered why this didn't seem to bother Puck. "Do you want to… talk about it?"

Puck's expression was incredulous. "I promise, you _don't_ want to hear about that."

"No, I do! I… I mean, if you want to talk, I want to listen." Finn took a breath. "There are things friends shouldn't keep from each other."

Puck looked at him sharply. "Um. Okay," he said. "But I should probably get up and shower first. I'm pretty sure even _friends_ don't want to share my morning breath and stinky pits."

 _I don't mind,_ Finn thought, but even his limited filter kicked in before he could say it. Instead he unwrapped his arms and moved back to allow Puck to extract himself from the sweaty sleeping bag. He tried not to grin when he noticed he wasn't the only one with morning wood, but decided now was not the time to hit Puck with this observation.

* * *

Finn knew better than to try to make breakfast for Puck, but he got some oranges out of the fridge and sliced them to make some orange juice. He cleaned up the family room and tossed out the leftover salad, which had been left on the table to wilt after dinner. He brushed his teeth. He tried to feel anxious about all the stuff that had happened between them last night. He couldn't. _Puck said they were cool, and he meant it._

Puck emerged from the shower looking relaxed, but subdued. He mixed batter for sweet cheese blintzes ( _my favorite,_ Finn thought happily) in silence, and even let Finn make the cheese filling, albeit from a recipe. He fried up some bacon and set the table.

"Dude, I thought Jews didn't eat bacon?" Finn joked. Puck gave him a wan smile.

"Yeah, we don't eat milk and meat together either. Or get tattoos, or piercings. Guess I'm going to hell."

Finn sat across from Puck and cut into a blintz. "So… what do you remember about your dad? He left when you were pretty young, right?"

Puck nodded. "I was eight or nine when my mom and dad split up. I saw him a little bit after that, but he took off about a year later. Do you remember him at all? That was before you came over to my house much."

Finn thought. "I remember a tall guy with huge muscles and a bald head. Was that him?"

"Mmmm." Puck swallowed a bite of blintz. "He lost his job when I was six and he didn't leave the house much after that. My mom went to nursing school full time, and he watched us at home after school." Puck's hands stilled, and he closed his eyes.

"Puck?"

He shook his head. "It's OK… it's just hard, remembering some of it. I didn't remember a lot of it until last year."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I think we wait to look at the big, heavy stuff until we're really ready for it."

Puck thought about that. "Huh."

Finn paused. "Did he… I mean, did he ever…"

"He would hit us when we were bad," Puck said without emotion. "With his fists, and his belt. One time he slapped my mom and I remember my brother – he was probably about eight then – he tackled him, trying to bring him down, but the guy was like a brick wall. My brother didn't go to school the next day."

Finn felt the blintz and juice curdle in his stomach. "God, Puck."

"My sister was too young to remember it, but my brother and I, we used to make plans to poison him or rig his car to crash, so he wouldn't hurt us anymore. But we were just too scared in the end. When it was us, we'd cover our heads so we wouldn't get hurt too bad, and we'd cover our ears so we couldn't hear it when he punished somebody else."

Finn reached across the table and touched Puck on the back of his hand. Puck grabbed his hand once, tightly, fiercely, then let go.

"I think…" Puck was very quiet now. "I think there was… other stuff, too, but I can't really remember it." He looked across the kitchen. "I'm pretty sure that's why my brother left, a few years ago – he remembered. He got really angry all of a sudden at my mom and took off."

He rubbed his eyes, one short, quick swipe. "This is the biggest reason I don't want to be a dad, Finn. I don't want to end up like him. I don't want to treat my own kids like they're less than dirt."

"You won't, Puck! Someday you'll be a great dad." Finn was shocked. "You would _never_ do that to a kid. _Never."_

Puck shook his head and smiled. It was an actual smile. Finn wasn't sure he'd ever seen that on Puck's face before. "You always see the best in me," he said, and his voice cracked.

"Well, that's because I'm so smart," Finn said, deadpan. Puck busted a gut, which was what Finn was hoping he'd do, and relaxed a little.

They cleaned up the dishes quietly, so as not to wake Puck's mom, and when Puck stuck a Ziploc bag with the last blintz in Finn's duffel when he thought Finn wasn't looking, Finn made his decision. He approached Puck and made him look at him.

"I'm going to hug you now," he said frankly. "And it's not going to be weird. Because you're my friend, and I… we're cool."

He wrapped his arms around a stunned Puck, and held him tight for several long moments. Puck hesitated, then, tentatively, hugged back. It felt warm and sweet and comforting, like -

 _Like a donut,_ Finn thought dreamily. _A cake donut. I love… donuts._

* * *

Finn arrived on time at Kurt's house with a box of half a dozen freshly made cake donuts. Kurt's dad answered the door. "Can I help you?" he asked guardedly.

"Um, I'm Finn," he said, holding out his hand. Kurt's dad shook it. "I'm here to see Kurt."

Kurt's dad's eyebrows went up under his baseball cap, but he let Finn in instead of making him stand outside in the rain. Kurt emerged from the basement, looking surprised, but he graciously introduced Finn as "my friend from Glee and football."

Burt – that was his name – nodded. "Oh, yeah, you're the quarterback. I knew I'd seen you before. You're in Glee?" He squinted at Finn. "Huh. Well, can I get you anything? I see you brought breakfast."

"Oh, these are for Kurt – I already ate." He passed the box to Kurt, who peeked inside, then, smiling widely, offered one to his dad. Burt looked inside and shook his head.

"Sorry, I only like the puffy kind. Those are too heavy for my taste."

Finn grinned at Kurt, who cocked an eyebrow, that clearly meant, _See? What did I tell you?_

"Dad, we're going downstairs now, and before you even say anything, I want you to know Finn is always a perfect gentleman. And we'll keep the door open."

Burt scowled, but he didn't object as the two boys headed down the stairs. "It's good to meet you, sir," called Finn, as they disappeared around the corner.

"Your dad's nice," he said to Kurt.

"Yeah, he's pretty great," Kurt agreed. "My mom died when I was eight, and he's been all the parent a kid could need since then."

"Wow, that's rough," Finn grimaced. "My dad died when I was really little. I barely remember him."

"Another thing we have in common, hmm?" said Kurt, looking pointedly at the donuts.

Finn blushed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Um. Yeah. I guess so."

"So, how did it go last night?"

"It was good, I think. Except I didn't get a clear answer about the, um, the donut test."

"Oh?" Kurt sat and offered a chair. "What exactly happened?"

"He… ate my donuts. The ones I picked out. Stole them off my plate."

Kurt stared, then laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah. I took one of each, one yeast and one cake, and he ate them both. Then when I asked him which one was better, he said he just liked donuts and he didn't want to choose."

"Wow." Kurt took a donut and bit into it delicately, watching Finn. "Sounds like a pretty clear answer to me."

"Uh, really? 'Cause I was kind of confused by it."

"Well, did you get any other… evidence as to his orientation?"

Finn remembered. _The foot massage. The nightmare. The hug._ His face flamed, and he caught his breath, then smiled. "Yeah… I think I did."

Kurt looked interestedly at Finn's burning cheeks. "Hmmmm. I think you'd better not tell me any more right now. Only – what do you think you're going to do, now that you know?"

"That's the thing I'm not sure about," he admitted. "I know for sure that he's not just a friend. But he _is_ my friend. And if I'm going to keep being his friend, I need to take it at his pace. So what if that means ignoring all the other stuff?"

"Well, I can tell you that if he's your friend, he appreciates hearing the truth from you," Kurt said. "Even if that truth is difficult."

Finn rubbed his brow. "I really like what we have now, though. I don't want to wreck it."

"Even if you have the chance at something even better?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded. Kurt sighed.

"Well, I imagine you'll figure it out along the way. You are honest, thoughtful, honorable and kind. I suspect you'll manage to enrich your friendship, even if you don't have all that – other stuff." He smiled. "If he still doesn't want you, with all of that, hell, he doesn't deserve you."

Finn looked shyly at Kurt. "You think I'm all those things? You barely know me."

"Oh, I know you, Finn," Kurt assured him. "The question is, do you know yourself?" He cocked his head to one side. "What was the verdict of your own donut test? Are you strictly him-sexual, or do other donuts stand a chance?"

"I haven't had any thoughts… like the ones I've had about him… about any other guys," Finn admitted. "So I don't really know, yet."

Kurt bit his lip. "I hesitate to offer this, because I don't want to give you the wrong idea about my intentions," he began, then stopped, and shook his head. "No, never mind."

Finn was intrigued despite himself. "What is it?"

Kurt turned to face him. "I was pretty aggressively pursuing you for a while, Finn. But there's no way I'd stand in the way of someone figuring out his sexual orientation. I want to be perfectly clear that I would not, and I will not, interfere with your pursuit of the boy you love."

Finn's chest hitched a little at the l-word, but he smiled gratefully at Kurt's impassioned speech. "That's really nice to hear, man."

"Aaaaand," Kurt went on, "I also acknowledge from past experience that it might be… _useful_ for you to know whether or not your interest in cake donuts extends past the one flavor you have lusted for."

"Sure," Finn agreed.

"So, to that end, and strictly in the interests of helping you, I offer myself as a test subject." Kurt looked pleased with himself.

"Excuse me, what?" Finn paused, looking at Kurt in confusion.

"You can kiss me if you want," Kurt explained.

"Oh. Oh!" Finn was startled. He considered Kurt nervously. "That's, um, a really… _kind_ offer, and you're a nice guy, Kurt, but… I don't think I'm ready for that. With anybody."

"I completely understand," Kurt said graciously. "I will take your rejection in the spirit in which it was given." He led Finn over to a wall of DVDs, mostly Broadway musicals and old black and white movies, and gestured grandly. "Now, I seem to recall the selection of a movie was entrusted to me?"

"Sure," said Finn. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than watching Sleepless in Seattle six times."

"Oh, I don't know," Kurt mused, and he pulled out an absolutely flawless imitation of Billy Crystal, saying, "There is too much pepper in my paprikash… but I would be proud to partake of your pecan pie."

Finn laughed, honestly impressed. "You are a man of many talents, Kurt Hummel."

"You have no idea, Finn Hudson," he beamed.

**Author's Note:**

> I did an experiment in graphic story format for the first half of The Donut Test. It stemmed from me telling my non-Glee friends about my stories, and them wanting to check them out, but feeling reluctant to spend time getting to know a new fandom just to get into the characters. Also, because each story is so closely tied to a particular episode, I thought a visual summary of the episode and its associated dialogue might enrich the experience. Also also, I wanted to play with MPEG Streamclip.
> 
> This took about eight hours to conceptualize, hunt down/create caps for and assemble on a Mac with Pages, MPEG Streamclip and Graphic Converter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Wowee, are these boys beautiful, but they are not even a little bit mine. Some dialogue taken directly from the episode to maintain continuity, mixed with original dialogue so it's not totally stealing, right?
> 
> You can find the 14 page PDF version (about 50MB) here: <http://www.mediafire.com/?zb82q3t9kcfedmy>
> 
> Or, go here to view the JPG version at Imgur: <http://imgur.com/a/1Oi3b>
> 
> If you enjoy it, please comment here. If I get enough interest, I'll do the other half of the story.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -amy

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Finding Our Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574866) by [YinNocturne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YinNocturne/pseuds/YinNocturne)




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